


enjoy the abuse

by plants_girl



Category: Megadeth, Metallica, Rock Music RPF
Genre: Anal Fingering, Anal Sex, Blink And You Miss It Slash, Deepthroating, Dirty Talk, Dom/sub Undertones, Leather Trousers, M/M, Possessive Behavior, Rough Sex, no beta we die like men, save james 2020
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-04-30
Updated: 2020-04-30
Packaged: 2021-03-02 02:21:30
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,396
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23927542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/plants_girl/pseuds/plants_girl
Summary: Dave really, really has a thing for James's leather pants.
Relationships: James Hetfield/Dave Mustaine, Kirk Hammett/Lars Ulrich
Comments: 7
Kudos: 53





	enjoy the abuse

**Author's Note:**

> I actually speed typed this all out in one night, so sorry if there are any editing mistakes. No beta, as usual. 
> 
> Song that inspired the title was "enjoy the abuse" by Combichrist. 
> 
> I appreciate any feedback or constructive criticism in the comments 💞💞

Dave taps his fingers impatiently on the armrest of a dirty blue chair. The green room, more like a closet, at the Old Waldorf is gross, and he's really just ready to get on stage. Lars won't stop screeching, talking over everyone in the room and laughing obnoxiously. Ron sulks like Dave, a bottle of beer tucked between his thighs on the couch. 

"Are you wearing fucking eyeliner?"

Looking up at the sound of Lars's voice, Dave is greeted with a gorgeous sight. James stands above him, long legs covered in stretchy leather and blue eyes lined subtly enough that Dave's got to squint a little to make sure he's seeing it right. 

"Rob Halford wears eyeliner," he mutters dismissively to Lars, tossing his blue denim vest on his shoulders. "You think he's cool."

Lars shakes his head and sighs like he's disappointed. "Yeah, but it's  _ you." _

Choosing this moment to insert himself into the conversation, Dave chuckles. "Says the one wearing spandex." James gives him a small smile, and Dave can't tell if he's asking for validation or thanking him. "Besides," Dave continues, standing next to the blonde. "He looks great. Leave him alone."

Rolling his eyes, Lars starts to follow Ron and everyone else filing out of the room, leaving James and Dave lingering behind them. 

"So you like it?" James questions, grinning at Dave surprisingly coy for someone so shy. 

When he's sure no one can see them, Dave wraps a hand around James's waist and squeezes it, hard. The younger man gasps, a shiver wracking his frame. "Fuck yes, I do. C'mon, before someone comes back looking for us."

Dave leaves without even looking at James, who has to run to catch up with him. "About time," Lars complains. "Were you fixing your hair or something?"

The two share a knowing glance as Dave puts on his guitar strap. "Or something."

If Lars notices the heated glances between them he doesn't say anything. Pretty surprising, considering Dave knows all about his little bed romps with the pretty kid from Exodus. "Whatever, let's fuckin' do this."

The show, which Brian is taping, goes astoundingly well. Dave takes every chance to touch James he can get, messing the singer up every now and again, his fingers stumbling over a note or two. He can't help it; James's ass looks fucking  _ fantastic  _ in those pants. 

He almost gets lost in daydreams of what he's going to do to James once the show is over a couple times himself. Luckily, there's a guitar to hide the evidence in his jeans and a crowd too hyped up to notice their flirting. 

After the show, Ron disappears with the Exodus camp, Kirk returning in his stead with Lars practically glued to his side. James seems frustrated that he can't get Dave alone, but Dave's amused. It's cute watching James stomp around and glare at Lars and Kirk. 

"They're adorable," Dave comments, leaning over the back of the sofa as the two watch the other men share one chair. "Wonder how Gary hasn't figured it out yet."

"Wonder how they haven't figured us out yet," James growls, sipping his Heineken. 

Dave jumps over the back of the couch and slings his arm across the back of the couch. Lars and Kirk are much too wrapped up in each other to notice how he whispers against James's ear. "Really? Didn't think anyone could miss how desperate you are for my attention, baby."

James shivers, just like Dave knew he would, and it always sends a rush of euphoria through his veins. Having the power to undo James with just a few words makes him heady and aroused. 

It's perfect timing, or just luck when Lars stands up after that. "Okay, we're going to the house. Coming?"

"Probably gonna catch up in a bit, I'm exhausted," Dave replies, nudging James's shoe with his own. 

Shaking himself out of his zoned-out stare, James coughs in surprise. "Uh, yeah, same here." 

"Alright."

The second the door shuts behind them, Dave's on James. The kiss is rough, more teeth than tongue, but James lets Dave shove into his mouth, moaning softly at the attention. Dave breaths in his scent deeply, letting it drown out the musty smell of the couch beneath them. James is yanked off Dave aggressively at that point, back landing on the couch cushions. 

"Clothes off. Except your pants," Dave commands in a voice that James would be suicidal to disobey. He doesn't watch James, opting to lock the door and strip off his own shirt before giving the singer another glance. 

There's something controlled in the way Dave moves to sit back on the couch. Like there's an animal just below the surface, waiting to rip it's way through the skin at any given chance. It excites James to no end, turns him into someone he didn't know he was until a couple months ago. 

Dave squeezes James's thigh, enjoying the way the leather crinkles under his grip. "You wanna get on your knees for me, baby?" The question comes out more as a demand, and James slips onto his knees between Dave's spread thighs, hands obediently at his sides. "That's a good boy."

James practically beams at the praise despite the straining erection that's making his pants seem rather impractical. It seems Dave is in an appreciative mood tonight rather than a violent one, but James wouldn't complain either way. Kisses or bruises, he's happy. 

"Now." Dave tugs at his belt, wants James to watch the way it slides through the belt loops and over his knuckles. He wrenches his fly open, exposes his cock and James knows better than to break eye contact. "I'm gonna ruin that eyeliner."

Taking the statement as permission, James leans forward and mouths experimentally over the head of Dave's cock. The guitarist groans softly when his tongue presses into the slit teasingly. His hips stutter up and James meets it, taking more of his cock and sucking him slow and easy. 

Months ago, James would've been disgusted by the idea of this, let alone getting off on it. Then again, he had no idea guys like Dave Mustaine existed yet. The ginger was an entirely different story, with his magic fingers and ridiculously good looks. God, his Dad would kill him if he knew how much time James spends on his knees. 

"Don't be a fucking tease, Jamie," Dave snaps, breaking him out of his thoughts. "You can do better than that."

The challenge is there, so James relaxes his throat as best he can and lets Dave use him. When they first started doing this, James's gag reflex was so bad he could barely take him without retching. Of course, Dave found that hot. "There we go," Dave sighs, rocking into his mouth with a deceptively calm pace. His fingers dig into James's curls, a small warning of what's to come. 

"I'm gonna keep my promise, baby, don't worry." The words are accompanied by a hard thrust to the back of James's throat that makes him seize up, choking a bit. From that point on, he has to adjust to Dave's frantic rhythm. Just like his guitar playing: chaotic but beautiful. A wet squelching sound fills the air, dirty and wrong.

James realizes he's crying, tears spilling over his cheeks and dripping onto his pants. Desperate for some kind of attention, he grinds the palm of his hand against his dick, secretly praying Dave will reprimand him. His tongue chases the vein on the underside of Dave's dick, and James swears up and down he can  _ feel  _ Dave twitch in his mouth. 

"Fuck yes, Jamie," Dave groans, giving one last hard shove that makes James gag before pulling out. He pulls the blonde's head back gently, tipping his chin up with two fingers. "Goddamn, you look so pretty like this. All ruined from my cock down your throat."

James's cheeks burn and his dick twitches excitedly at the dirty talk. He can only imagine how much of a mess he is, but he wouldn't change it for the world if it makes Dave happy. "Please…" he begs softly, squirming under Dave's gaze. "Please touch me."

"Mmm, you're gonna have to be a little more specific, hun." Dave's mouth curls into a smirk and he looks so fucking gorgeous James thinks he might have a heart attack. 

A blush spreads across James's face as heat fills his cheeks and creeps up his neck. Dave knows which button to press, and he'll smash them all until James is feverish. "I wanna feel you." He can't look Dave in the eye or he might blow his load right then and there. Not only would the night be over too soon, it would be a bitch to get out of these pants. "Want you to fuck me. Please, Dave."

It's dirty and disgusting but Dave brings out the worst in him. "Well, let's get you out of those pants, huh?" Dave purrs, his helping James stand and letting his hands drift to his fly. James steps out of the leather and lets himself be manhandled onto his back on the couch. Not much room for underwear in skin-tight leather jeans. The piece of furniture is definitely not meant to host two people having sex, that's for sure. 

James blinks and two fingers are pressing at his mouth, so he takes them in with the same enthusiasm he would Dave's cock, sucking and licking at them. Dave doesn't say anything, but he doesn't have to, either. His gaze alone makes James feel vulnerable and any smart person would run. 

Well, James never claimed to be intelligent.

A finger probes at his entrance and James lets his head fall back against the armrest. It feels so fucking amazing that all he can do is whine, pushing back on the fingers. "Desperate, aren't you? 'S not like you've been begging for it since the show started," Dave comments right as he pushes two fingers inside.

His moan and the arch of James's back are downright _sinful_ , dick rubbing against his stomach pitifully. With his legs wrapped loosely around Dave's waist, the angle is dead on, and James nearly loses it when Dave presses down on his prostate. 

The gesture takes James back to the first time he was touched like this, lying on the bed in Dave's apartment. It was rushed and experimental, but the moment means everything and more to James. 

"I'm ready, Dave, fuck," he stammers, kicking his heels against Dave's back impatiently. "P-please."

Dave swipes over the sensitive bundle of nerves one last time before pulling his fingers out. The way he spits into his hand and slicks himself up is too much for James to look at, so he squeezes his eyes shut and tries to focus on not coming yet. 

The first slide in nearly breaks James. He grits his teeth and holds back a yelp, hands flying to Dave's arms. The ginger presses a kiss to his temple, his gentle side flashing through, before he abruptly pulls back out and slams in again. 

"You're so fucking tight, Jamie." Dave drops his face into James's neck and starts up a punishing pace that has James's head spinning. The couch slides along the floor and creaks under them, protesting their sweaty love-making. 

This close, James smells Dave's whiskey breath and his cheap cologne. He wanted to start buying the expensive stuff, but James wouldn't let him; he likes Dave smelling like a men's locker room, apparently. His dick still bobs between them, untouched, but James is in no state of mind to ask for Dave's hand. 

After deciding the rough treatment isn't enough, Dave pulls back and wrenches one of James's legs over his shoulder. The angle is absolute bliss, and he's hitting James's protest with every thrust. He can still feel Dave's fingertips pressing into the spot behind his knee, hopefully leaving little purple bruises in his wake. "You won't be able to walk straight for a fucking week," Dave snarls as he snaps his hips in.

The feeling spreads in his gut, slow and sweet as molasses. God, James is right there, teetering on the edge. If only he could…

"Dave!" James whines, blunt nails leaving little crescent shapes on his wrist. "Please, I need - fuck. I'm…" He can't even finish his sentence, so close it's painful. 

The guitarist may be hard to please, but he isn't cruel. For James's sake, he doesn't make him finish the sentence, and wraps a merciful hand around his dick. 

Precum makes the slide slick and easy, and Dave only gets a couple strokes in before James is coming. He moans something on the verge of pornographic, dick spurting until he just can't give any more. 

Dave's orgasm comes crashing into him like a freight train a few seconds later. James watches him toss his head back and growl, looking every bit the majestic lion he is. He rides out the high with slow, deep thrusts until the oversensitivization is too much for even him. 

"Fuck." James agrees, that about sums it up. "You're fucking amazing, Jamie," Dave mutters, pressing their lips together messily. "It's like you were born to take my cock," he slurs, in awe. 

James shivers at the words, at all their implications, and simply leans his head against Dave's. The guitarist pulls out after a moment and rubs his thumb over a prominent hipbone. "How'd I get so lucky?"

Dave smiles so genuine it hurts and James turns away. "Shut up," he mutters, hoping Dave knows it's playful and that he feels just the same way. "We should go, before they come looking."

Nodding in agreement, Dave stands and snatches some napkins off the table. He tosses some to James and they clean themselves up. If there was more time, Dave would lick the cum off James's belly and eat him out until he was shivering. But they have friends to meet and parties to start and houses to trash. 

After getting dressed, Dave presses a kiss to James's neck. "Mine."

"Always," James breathes, warmth radiating through his chest. 

Dave may be a dangerous drunken delinquent, but he plays one hell of a lead guitar and knows James like the back of his hand. That's enough to make up for anything, James supposes. 


End file.
